Home
by bowtied
Summary: He always has someone to come home to. Futuristically Bluepulse!


**An old Bluepulse prompt from forever ago. I write things, publish them on tumblr for two seconds and then leave them to rot. Trying to change that. The prompt was "future," so, uh, that's what you're getting. Jaime and Bart...in the future. Any more explanation would be overkill.**

**I didn't proofread this. I suck at proofreading. I need a beta reader.**

**Enjoy my crappy drabble for what it is: profound art. Kidding. I promise.**

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Jaime gently landed on his patio, letting his armor fold away. He rubbed the back of his neck and winced when he made contact with a sore spot. He was getting too old for this job, or maybe he was just letting stress get the better of him. He sighed, trying to push those thoughts away as he opened his door and stepped into his home, letting the warm, homey air overtake him.

"I'm home!" he called out when he noticed the living room was empty. Jaime threw off his hoodie as he stepped inside, leaving it in a wrinkled heap on the floor by the coat hanger. He was about to plop on the couch and turn on the TV when he noticed a light on in the kitchen.

Curiosity got the better of him. He pushed through the kitchen door and his eyes widened. The kitchen table was covered with fresh food and, at the growl of his stomach, Jaime let his mouth become a waterfall. His bright eyes moved to Bart, who was standing by the stove with a smirk.

"Like what you see?" the redhead asked as he wiggled his eyebrows.

Jaime nodded, taking a seat at the table and pulling the closest dish, a bowl of mashed potatoes, to him. He didn't notice Bart roll his eyes. "Not really what I meant, but it works, I guess."

"When did you have time to do this, cariño?" Jaime asked. He was still mesmerized by the food. Bart was no master chef, but he'd thrown everything together in the house. Besides potatoes, there was salad, toast and jelly, chicken noodle soup, a bowl of popcorn, and a bag of Cheetos. "Aqualad said you and Batgirl were taking care of Scarecrow all the way back in Gotham."

Bart shrugged and took the seat next to Jaime. "Turns out he's not all he's cracked up to be and no foe can withstand the might of the ginger duo!" Jaime laughed at Bart's over dramatic narrator-ish tone. He took a piece of a toast and bit into it, letting the warmth of fresh food relax him.

He, Lagoon Boy and Superboy had spent the entire night dealing with Captain Cold's latest heist and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed with his boyfriend and sleep the night away. Just the thought left Jaime's eyes heavy.

"Besides, you're gonna need your energy for your all nighter," Bart went on. Jaime stared at his boyfriend wide eyed; Bart purposefully pretended not to notice and instead began picking through the bowl of popcorn.

"No way, ese, I'm hitting the hay now!" he argued. He stood, ready to prove his point, though his stomach growled in protest. Bart was faster, up and blocking the door in the blink of an eye; damn that super speed.

"Nuh uh," the redhead countered. He put his hands on his hips. "_Someone_ has a World War I paper due first thing in the morning and_ someone_ asked his boyfriend to keep him from forgetting to write it." Jaime's memory of the paper in question hit him like a truck and he slapped his face. The worst thing about it, Bart looked stern on the matter.

"I'm doomed!" he groaned, falling back into his seat. Jaime rested his head against the table with a thud. Bart approached him and awkwardly invited himself into Jaime's lap. "How am I gonna make it all night?" Jaime raised his head to ask his question, despite his exhaustion.

Bart offered a small smile and kissed Jaime's cheek. "I'll stay up with ya! There's no falling asleep when I'm around, no way, no how!" Jaime's face brightened; at least that much was definitely true.

"You're the best, cariño." They kissed again, this time they stole several moments. Even in the comfort of their home, just being with Bart made him feel the most relaxed. Just maybe he'd get his paper in on time, and maybe he'd do a little better than a C- this time; a guy could hope.

Bart pulled away and stood up. He began moving towards the counter. "I know I'm the best. I'll make some coffee, but you get on that paper! No procrastinating now you hear me." Bart wagged his finger and Jaime laughed, pulling himself out of his seat to search for his laptop.


End file.
